


content with loneliness

by cinderlily



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10011680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: It was easy for Oliver to escape for the summer. Avoid the truth that awaited him at home. But the season had to start sometime and with it came what he knew had been looming, the divorce papers from Mikkel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So a few weeks ago, during a Q&A, Oliver was asked if he had any roommates. I have to paraphrase here, but allow me to tell you he said something like, "Well I had to DIVORCE my last roommate, so I'm not sure if it's a good idea." He used the word DIVORCE. 
> 
> WHY YOU GOTTA PLAY ME LIKE THAT OLIVER? WHY YOU DO THAT? AND ON THE ALMOST ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THE TRADE THAT DARE NOT SPEAK IT'S NAME? (Also, my birthday. Which is Wednesday. Yes, trade deadline. It blows.) 
> 
> 20k later, here you go.

The papers arrive a week before preseason started. Oliver would have held it against Mikkel, actually he kind of did, but to be fair it was a summer that neither of them spent more than a week anywhere. It was probably most effective to have them show up at a place Mikkel would know where he was and when. 

Still, waking up to a knock on his door and getting served with divorce papers was a pretty fucking dick move. It was early. He was still dragging ass from jetlag. He was not in a good mood. And there it was. 

Mikkel formally asked him for a divorce. It was written in legalese, but Oliver saw the basics. ‘Irreconcilable differences’ made him laugh in the most petty way possible, as the differences were that Mikkel wanted to not be married and Oliver wanted to be married. Pretty irreconcilable, yeah. 

He threw the paperwork on the stack in his kitchen that also contained approvals for a few new designs of sweaters and a pair of pants for the OEL line and then he did the mature respectable thing. He ignored the hell out of them. 

The first few days it was because he had a lot of things lined up, plus the jet lag. Then came the whole… hockey season thing. It was definitely not the best of excuses but he took it as it came. He saw the papers, of course, all the time. Out of the corner of his eye in the morning when he grabbed a shake. When he took the designs out from beneath them so that he could sign off and send them. 

He _probably_ should have just signed them and sent them then but looking over the designs took time and effort and his copier was janky so he had to take it to the front office to scan and send it to his manager in Sweden. It was a whole thing and he just, you know… forgot. 

And kept forgetting. As it turned out, forgetting it was a lot easier than confronting it on both sides. He didn’t get any phone calls from Mikkel, no texts, emails, or even a summons. It was one of those things that he was thankful for. He could have made a lifetime of not signing those papers. 

Except they had to play the Sharks. The fucking _Sharks_ that were now Mikkel’s team. Which made him feel bile rise up in the back of his throat as soon as the week’s schedule was put up in the room. He looked at it like he was looking at his own doom. 

He couldn’t even make it through the first week of play before he had to see him. Sure the score wouldn’t matter, it was just fair play but fucked if he would rather play sick for that game. 

It wasn’t even on home ice. 

The morning of the game they had open skate and it was pretty mandatory as all early games were. He made it through the whole skate without seeing Mikkel, thankful that they had the early slot. Mikkel wasn’t much for waking up early unless he had to and without Oliver there as his alarm clock…

Oliver showered fast and put on his biggest headphones to walk out to the bus with. He’d hoped he could just slump back against the window and let people around him ignore him. They were all doing it pretty effectively. Loudly, actively ‘ignoring’ him. He was taking it as a kindness. 

He was almost to the door when a hand landed on his shoulder. He pulled back his headphones, the overly loud music pumped out and he turned to find Mikkel standing there in his relaxed gear a stern look on his face. He hit the pause button and the noise stopped.

“You know that’s going to make you go deaf,” Mikkel pointed at the headphones. 

Just to be a pain in the ass, he leaned towards him a little. “What?” 

Mikkel rolled his eyes but a small smile peeked from the left side. He always knew how to get him. Oliver’s stomach dropped a little. It had been three months since he’d seen him, three months of purposefully avoiding his social media, photos face down in his apartment in Stockholm. Fuck if Mikkel didn’t still look just the same as he remembered him. 

“So,” Mikkel rubbed at the side of his neck. “I think you got the … paperwork I sent you?” 

Oliver averted his eyes, looking just over Mikkel’s shoulder. “Yeah, uh. I did. I know I should send it back. Long few weeks, you know? Scanner is broke. Or…I don’t know. You were always better with it.” 

“You’d think you’d learn after sending all that stuff to Sweden,” Mikkel teased him but they both went quiet after a second. He didn’t have to learn when Mikkel lived with him. He just would pout and make promises and Mikkel would always give in. 

Oliver rubbed at his facial hair. “Yeah. I’ll. Um. I’ll send it when I get home. Courier. Can’t fuck that up, can I?” 

“Nah, I’ll just pick it up next week,” Mikkel said, finally noticing that Oliver wasn’t making eye contact. “We play on the 7th. I was going to come over to pick some stuff up. You know. Cords and such. I think I might have left one of my Denmark kits there.” 

He had. It was seated on a chair in Oliver’s office. He had sworn to himself he’d pack it and bring it back up to him on this roadie. But he was pretty good at lying, even to himself. 

“I think I’ve seen it so… I’ll pack it up,” he said, confidently even if he knew his face probably betrayed it. 

From just behind Mikkel he heard a familiar voice. “Oh Ollie, we’ve been looking for you.” 

Mike put a large palm on Mikkel’s shoulders and Mikkel actually flinched. “Hey Mikey.” 

“I’ll be taking my defensemen,” he said with a toothy smile. “See you on the ice, Boedker.” 

The fact that he purposefully mispronounced Mikkel’s last name shouldn’t have given any happiness to Oliver but it did. Mike lifted his hand off Mikkel’s shoulder and gently moved it to Oliver’s, switching it and pushing him to turn around. 

When they’d gotten outside Mike hummed and lowered his tone just incase any of the other guys exiting could hear over the din of the bus and street noises. “You okay there, Ollie?” 

“Yeah,” he lied, even though he felt like he’d been boarded, hard, and he really really didn’t want to play that night. “I’m fine.” 

Mike gave him a dubious look but nodded. “Let’s go. Food and naps are calling me. Newborns are a bitch.” 

“Yet you keep _having them_ ,” Oliver teased, half heartedly. 

Mike waggled his eyebrows. “The making them is the fun part.” 

Oliver shuddered at the image and lifted his head phones back to his ears, unpausing them. 

When he sat down against the window he turned the music down a little bit and felt weirdly guilty for doing so.

* 

By the time the afternoon nap and dinner was finished Oliver was getting the distinct feeling that he was being guarded. It wasn’t that he was a solitary guy, he liked to be with his friends. He was usually talking with someone about something. Grabbing Devo to talk about random plays, Doaner about things they needed to work on on ice. It was just that usually he had to at least seek it out every once in a while. 

Instead, that afternoon he had a person at his side like he was made of sugar and beer. It took him a while to notice but when he did he tried a few tactics to shake them off to see if he was just making it up. He was most definitely not making it up, as he shook off Shane just in time for Max to ‘remember’ he _had_ to ask something of Oliver right that moment. 

It reeked of a Smitty decision. 

And the honest part of him was kind of touched that his teammates, his little weird family, had his back like that. But it was really freaking tiring. He made it to the ice and was relieved to get to be able to pretend everything was fine. He wasn’t trying to be a brat but he wasn’t a _kid_. 

They did drills and played back and forth and he got some of his annoyance out on the back of the net, much to Louis’ annoyance. At one point Mikkel was at center ice just as he was about to be, and funnily enough Duke knocked into him pushing him ahead. 

Once he’d missed the net and hit the backboard he twirled back around and knocked against Duke. 

“You’re supposed to at least pretend to be subtle, fucker.” 

Duke shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“For the love of…” he said, but the horn blew to alert them to get off the ice. He was just tired enough to consider not trying to fight for last off ice but he had his dignity. Shane messed around as long as he could, Oliver close at his heels and then finally the two of them stumbled off like they always did, Shane was the last. As always. 

“You doing okay?” Shane asked, in the tunnel, his mouth guard still in. 

Oliver shrugged. “Yeah. I’m fine.” 

“You are worse than Carys,” Shane said. “At least she _tries_ when lying.” 

Oliver didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near miss. Just what he needed was Shane literally pulling the dad card. It was weird enough when he linked him to one of his kids. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said, which was true. He wasn’t going to die of this, he knew that. If it took a year or two he figured he could make it through that. He tried sleeping around a bit this summer and it’d turned into a shit show rather quickly so he decided he’d just… be… for a while. 

“You know, I’m not one to do this, but say the word and Domi will trip… hard.” 

Oliver laughed. The idea of Domi tripping Mikkel was pretty amusing. Kid was scrappy but Mikkel was just built bigger. “I think Meeks might actually take that one in stride.” 

He paused mid step before forcing himself to move forward. Shit. He hadn’t said ‘Meeks’ in forever. He needed to wipe that out of his memory. It wasn’t fair to his chest. Shane caught it, of course he did, and he got a look but no actual words. They were at the locker room at least. 

*

The game was eh. They lost but it was preseason and he was about as invested in it as he was in NASCAR so he was pretty okay with the loss. No sour taste in his mouth. 

They all changed out, no real scrum in preseason. He accepted the thinly veiled excuse from Murphs and let him chatter about Rieder coming back and the house he just bought as they walked out. 

Mikkel was standing there, which shouldn’t have shocked him but it made his stomach jump to his throat even still. Thankfully, Murphy was on the side closest to him so Oliver focused on Murphy like the gravel in his front yard was the most important thing on earth. 

He heard his name a few times but ignored it. When they walked out to the bus to take them to the airport Murphy paused and gave him a look. He shrugged the tight line of his shoulders and then nodded before Murphy started again. 

At least he was left alone on the airplane. It wasn’t the longest flight, but he put on some music and conked out.

*

Once he was aware of it, the week flew by at a dizzying pace. He still didn’t open the packet again. Still left it where it was. But it was like it kept moving slightly, or possibly getting bigger. He was constantly seeing it out of the corner of his eye. Found himself putting his hand on it while he looked for tape or a pen. It was just… everywhere. 

And October 6th came and he knew, he knew, the next day he was going to have to give it up. That it was done. He’d packed up Mikkel’s kit and a few miscellaneous things he found around the house that he was half sure were Mikkel’s. 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t mixed their lives together into one massive pile of ‘them’ but he was trying his best to at least detangle some of it. Not much to do with a lot of things, but he put a pile of pictures in the backpack he had on hand, just incase Mikkel wanted them. He was actually proud he did it. Lessen the load in the house that was already pretty much a standing monument to their life. 

He kept telling himself that it was okay that he was doing this. That it was the right thing to do, even if every single part of him was telling him _not_ to do it. To burn the paper work, to move all of his stuff back into their room. But he didn’t because he knew it would just prolong the inevitable. 

He was kind of shocked when the doorbell rang at just past 8 at night. Shocked somewhat because you needed a code to get into the gated community but also because it was 8 at night and they had a game the next day. He didn’t have a shirt on, but was too lazy to go back to his room to find one. He patted his naked feet down the hallway and hoped no one would be scandalized by his well worn sleep pants. 

He opened the door to find an uncomfortable looking Mikkel in the darkness just outside his door. 

“You forgot to change the bulb on the lamp,” Mikkel pointed up. He hadn’t forgotten, per se, but it was Mikkel’s job and a lot of those jobs got left alone because… well. They hurt. 

“Just happened,” he lied and Mikkel nodded even though he looked like he knew it was a lie. “You have a key.” 

Mikkel looked at the ground and half smiled. “Not my house anymore, Ollie.” 

Oliver felt the flinch and saw it in the reaction on Mikkel’s face. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ambushed you, I just figured I would rip the band aid off, you know? Maybe I should just…” Mikkel jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go.” 

“NO,” Oliver said and his voice was too loud, he looked down. “Uh. You’re here. Just come in. I guess.” 

When Oliver stepped back, Mikkel entered the house and automatically slipped out of his shoes. Oliver watched in sheer fascination at each movement, like this was some sort of dream or half memory. Had he fallen asleep on his couch? He’d done it enough… But it was real. It had to be, not even his brain would be cruel enough to have Mikkel’s shirt slip up to expose hip and flesh as he leaned over to take off one of his shoes. 

“You guys got here early,” he said, a dumb statement but it was much better than most of the sentences going through his mind. 

Mikkel looked up and nodded. “Yeah, though late in the day. We didn’t get in until near dinner.” 

He was honestly surprised he hadn’t gotten a text from one of his teammates about this. The hotel staff was pretty attentive when the team arrived and it generally got circulated quickly giving old teammates time to sneak in a beer before the game. 

“How’d you get here?” 

Mikkel shrugged. “Uber. Guy was pretty nice, too.” 

This, actually, had been a fight between the two of them in the past. Uber when going to their _home_ made Oliver feel skeeved out. He would rather grab a ride from a friend if they were going to get drinking or something but in that moment he felt too tired to make the point again. Rather, he just shrugged and walked into the house. 

“I have your stuff in a bag,” he said. “Save time and all that.” 

He felt Mikkel at his heels and decidedly stared forward rather than back. The bag was on a chair in the front room. He grabbed it, turned around and shoved it out.

“A Denmark kit, a few extra pair of pants. Some wires. A few Danish novels. You did a pretty good clean out last year,” he said and looked around. “But if you want to do a quick walk through, feel free.” 

Mikkel was looking at him blankly. “No. Um. I’m. I’m good. We’ll just. I guess. The papers?” 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “I have to sign it. I was going to in the morning.” 

“You’ve had it for a month, Oliver,” Mikkel said slowly.

“I’ve had a few things going on,” he snapped. “Do you want me to sign it or not?” 

Mikkel didn’t look at him but instead followed when Oliver turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen, grabbed the folder and searched through the small mug of pens he kept nearby to find one that might work. He didn’t know how he felt when he realized he had too many freaking Coyotes pens. It was hard to find one that _DIDN’T_ have the symbol on the side of it. But he did, because fucked if he was signing this with a pen he could have signed his contract with. 

He sat down at the kitchen table they’d picked out at Copenhagen (a furniture place that had them laughing, especially as their was an outlet nearby called DenMarket), on a chair he’d hated when they bought but lost the fight. Mikkel sat down nearby and Oliver opened up the packet with tension rising in each of his muscles. 

After he stared at the stupid paper for a full thirty seconds he backed up and walked over to the liquor cabinet. Might as well go all in. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and then two small glasses from the cabinet next to it. Without words he poured two glasses, using the stupid Whiskey rocks from his freezer. 

He sat down and looked at all the little tabs of where he needed to sign, lifted his cup and looked at Mikkel. “To us.” 

He took a long drag and then picked up his pen. Mikkel was suspiciously quiet but that was not something he would consider. He started signing. Signature, initials, signature, initials. They were blessed in that they had set up a pretty basic prenup, not particularly sexy but when they’d decided on the whole thing they went in with a clear head. Apparently not clear enough with Mikkel, as Oliver had imagined forever not for convenience. 

After what felt like forty pages of pure signing he got to the very last one. He stared at the paper with a rock in his stomach. He felt like he should say something. One last plea, one last thing to stop this in it’s track. But the fights had been fought. The pleading had been done. He had his pride and it was wavering at it’s best. 

He leaned over and with a flourish ended two years of marriage. The room was painfully quiet and he couldn’t quite get himself to look up at Mikkel. He finished his whiskey in one long gulp. He moved to grab the bottle but Mikkel beat him to the punch and filled the glass again. This caused him to actually look at his… at Mikkel.

“It’s done,” he said. He took a gulp from the glass and grabbed all the papers. He neatly lined them up by tapping them on the table and then slipped them back into the yellow envelope. He didn’t hand it to Mikkel, rather he put it on the table in between them because fuck it. Mikkel wanted it, he could take it. He sipped from his glass. 

Mikkel inhaled and exhaled slowly. “You know this isn’t how I wanted to…” 

“Leave it, Mikkel,” he looked up and tried his best to stop him with his mind. Mikkel shrunk back.

“I’m sorry,” Mikkel said instead. He wasn’t sure what Mikkel was apologizing before but Oliver really wasn’t in the mood to ask. 

He lifted his glass and offered to clink their glasses. Mikkel grabbed his own and tapped them together, even if he looked confused. “To endings.” 

“To new beginnings,” Mikkel said softly. 

Oliver laughed bitterly. “Do you want to call your Uber or I could take you to your hotel?” 

Mikkel looked up from his glass and frowned at Oliver. “You shouldn’t drive.” 

“Then call your Uber,” Oliver said, sure that this was about as much as he could take of the moment. He was tired, and annoyed and the whole thing was just out of his comfort zone. 

“Oliver, I still want to be friends.” 

Oliver blinked at him. “Are you fucking kidding me, Mikkel?” 

“We’ve been friends for almost four years,” Mikkel pointed out. “I don’t want to lose that.” 

Oliver stood up. “We are not … going to be friends. You didn’t want to be with me, you _divorced me_. That is not a time for _Buddies_ , Mikkel.” 

“You are kidding me,” Mikkel stood up to stand next to Oliver. “You are just throwing everything away?” 

“ _I_ am not throwing anything away,” Oliver snapped. “You made your stance clear by moving cities, twice and not contacting me all summer except to give me papers. Go. You can sit outside waiting for the Uber. I don’t want you in _my_ house any more.” 

“Oliver,” Mikkel gritted his teeth. “You are being…” 

“Reasonable? Have you ever heard of a couple divorcing and then just chilling out and being friends? I do not think so. Get out. I’ll see you on the ice.” 

“You are being _stupid_ ,” Mikkel said, like he hadn’t just said something. “We weren’t a good married couple. You were… We fought and we had problems. We were good friends. The best friends.” 

Oliver took two steps forward, to be right next to him. “Get the hell out of my house, Bødker.” 

“Not until you … grow up,” Mikkel snapped back. 

“You want me to call the cops or your coach?” 

Suddenly there were lips on his, pressure and scent familiar. Fucking hell. He was going to pull back, except… there was a sense of home. They’d kissed in this stupid kitchen so many times he’d lost count. Warm familiar kisses, hot angry after fight kisses, lazy half forgotten morning kisses. 

It was like the lock fitting back into the key and he hated himself but he couldn’t give it up. Not in that second. 

* 

He woke up the next morning feeling warm and inexplicably happy for all of ten seconds before he realized just why everything felt right and then slowly and painfully wrong. The other side of the bed was messed up for the first time in forever. It was fainting warm and there was a scent of shower left lingering. 

But if Oliver knew Mikkel, and he did, that was all that was left in the house. 

He stood up and threw on his boxers that were on the floor beside the bed. He walked into the bathroom, saw a towel in the hamper (that was a first). He looked at the clock. His alarm wouldn’t even go off for another half hour. Mikkel really had to have fought to get his ass out of bed early enough to avoid seeing him. 

The hallway was empty, the living room as well. The only remnants of life in the kitchen was coffee in the coffee maker. He poured the rest of it in the sink, even though he could use the caffeine because … well. Fuck that. Fuck this whole thing.

He should have known better. Even though he wasn’t the one who initiated it, he’d let it keep going. Let the familiarity and the ache in his chest mix together to talk him into thinking it was a good idea. 

It was most definitely not a good idea. 

He figured the extra time he gave himself by waking up early would be a good enough excuse to get the rest of whatever was in his system out of it. At least he wasn’t nursing a hangover. 

He took a quick shower, sure any teammates he ran into would be able to smell it on him. He found as he looked in the mirror that Mikkel, the ass, had left marks on him. He’d always been careful in the past, but of course he wasn’t careful this time. Maybe he did it on purpose or maybe he’d just gotten sloppy with the time and distance but there were bites at the base of his neck and on the hollow of his neck and he was going to have to think of an excuse but what the hell would work for that? 

For that moment he put on a high collared shirt, a button down even though it wasn’t required for practice. Even though he would have to take it off to get dressed. 

He drove to the arena in silence, his brain too full to let the radio distract him. He got there and was thankful to find that the parking lot only had one car. He knew Shane’s schedule well enough to know he’d never beat him there. It was fair enough, he could probably play it off to one person. 

Hopefully. 

His warm up gear was in the trunk of his car, and smelled kind of god awful as he hadn’t left it to be cleaned the last time. His brain had been elsewhere. Thankfully his skates were in his locker. He put his gear on quickly and by rout, years of doing this paying off in his haze of a brain. 

Shane was already on the ice, putting pucks into the net from as many angles as he could manage. When Ollie stepped out Shane did a double take. 

“Ollie?” Shane looked down at the non-existent watch on his wrist. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he said. “Just a bout of insomnia getting me, nothing big.” 

Shane gave him a look. “You know and I know why you are here right now.” 

Oliver’s stomach lurched. “What?” 

“We saw him last week, we’ve got the guard thing down,” Shane said, reassuringly. “Don’t let it worry you.”

He sagged in demented relief. “Oh, yeah. I … um. Seeing him is just jarring.”

“Yeah, it gets me and I’m used to the trade game,” Shane said, passing a puck across the ice in one firm swipe. Oliver caught it and played around with it for a few minutes before he threw it to the back towards the net. It banked off the far side and went in. He smiled at that at least, and Shane looked proud enough. 

Oliver inhaled, it took all the self respect he possessed to ask the next question. “You think we could step up the guard, just for tonight?” 

Shane looked at him for a long moment. “Naturally. Any reason?” 

“I signed the divorce papers last night,” Oliver said, focusing on the ice in front of him. 

“Ouch,” Shane said. “No wonder you couldn’t sleep.” 

If only that was the reason that it ended up mattering. He looked up and shrugged at Shane. Shane, Mike along with a select few players and a few higher ups, were part of the very small circle who knew about the whole marriage thing. Players had had their suspicions. People had gone so far as making “jokes” but they’d kept it to a minimum. 

“Want to talk about it?” Shane said, his tone pretty much telecasting the fact that he **did not want to**. Oliver shook his head and Shane’s body went limp with relief. “Do you want to… see who can hit all four corners first?” 

Oliver felt himself relax again. “Yeah, I think I could do that.” 

Oliver won in a freaking landslide. He took six pucks, and Shane still had two sides when they ended. They followed that by some back and forth, then keep away and by the time they’d gotten to the point of a speed competition a few players had started to trickle onto the ice. Hanzal hailed Shane and Oliver was left to play happy with everyone else. 

He might have been a little more aggressive than necessary in practice but it felt freaking good. When Max went in for a jump bump he almost knocked him down and he felt like a heel when Max looked at him like he was crazy. 

“Sorry, lost my sense of balance,” he said weakly. 

“Hulk angry,” Connor teased. “Hulk SMASH.” 

Mike, from his place in front of the net, hit Connor in the back with a puck. 

“OUCH,” Connor said, then turned to look at Mike who had a glare on his face even though he was in mask. He seemed to have a face back and forth without words, which had to be difficult for a goalie but if anyone could do that, it was Mike. Connor turned around and his demeanor changed just enough to show some sort of apology. “You.. uh. Want to pass the puck back?” 

Oliver took the puck nearest to him and passed it directly to him, forcing himself not to lob it too hard. It was weird, the normalcy of practice mixed with the sure knowledge that most likely by now, somewhere in the building Mikkel was getting laced up. 

He wondered, idly, how weird it might be for him. In this building he spent years with the same routine but having to do everything backwards. Like the world flipped on it’s stomach. 

Tippet blew his whistle and they all streamed to the exit. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Mike and Shane having a low conversation, shooting a few furtive looks Oliver’s way. He was the one to ask Shane for extra protection, he shouldn’t be shocked when Mike skated up and shoved his way ahead of him, Shane being behind him. 

“Geez Harry,” Mike teased, obviously forced. “Move slower why don’t you?” 

They walked off the ice and wobbled down the hallway. He was decidedly not looking either way. He kept his eyes on the number 41 on the back in front of him. 

He wasn’t going to look, except Shane let out air through clenched teeth and he knew what that meant. He looked to the left and saw the group of guys waiting to get on. Mikkel was at his front and they caught eyes. At least he had the decency to look like he hadn’t gotten a good night of rest. He let himself linger as long as he could before he forced his eyes forward again. 

He was not sure how he felt about the number of games he would have to do this this season. Not to mention the seasons after that. 

* 

They won. _Thankfully_. Though it still didn’t matter. The preseason was not boding well for the regular season, but whatever. The younger guys decided it was ‘necessary’ to go out to celebrate the useless win and he followed just to avoid the chance of Mikkel coming for another random visit. 

An hour or so in, Duke, who was obviously drunk, looked at him for a long time. “You look sad, Ollie.” 

“You look drunk,” Ollie said, though he had little room to talk. He was riding comfortably in the buzzed territory but drunk was on the horizon and getting closer. 

“I don’t like you being sad,” Duke said and the sincerity was kind of endearing if it didn’t have the reminder that he was going to have to pick up the kid in a few hours when he got too bad. 

Oliver put on a smile. “I’ll try being happy for you, Anthony Duclair.” 

“You will?” Duke grinned. “S’Awesome.” 

For the first time that day he laughed honestly, Duke beaming as he wobbled off towards another person. 

“You know, it still counts as a lie even if he isn’t going to remember it in the morning,” Mike said, pulling a seat up next to him. 

Oliver nudged at him going in for a joke. “Well, then you’re in trouble, right?” 

“Shut up,” Mike said. “I’m being serious here.” 

Oliver knew that, but he’d hoped maybe he would be taken pity on if he could just keep a straight face for as long as possible. But instead Mike was close up to him and he was more or less stuck. “I will _try_.” 

“You shouldn’t be _trying_ for anyone other than yourself Oliver,” he said. 

Any other time he might laugh and say something along the lines of Shane’s Dad-ness rubbing off on him but Mike was not looking like he was in the mood for that kind of joke. Rather Oliver found a seat and pulled it up near him. “It would work better if I didn’t have to see him all the fucking time.” 

Mike nodded. “Well, dating a co-worker, man.” 

“We said forever, Mike,” he said and fuck, his voice cracked. He wasn’t the type to let his voice crack. “We said forever and he couldn’t give me that.” 

“Are you mad at him?” 

“No.” 

Because why go for anything other than honesty, really. He should be mad, fuck, he should be throwing Mikkel’s shit off of the hill near their house. Lighting fires. But of course he wasn’t. He was mad. He was hurt. But at himself. He expected too much. He had pushed for the marriage. Or, maybe, they had agreed on the marriage. But they’d been together for such a short amount of time and were so young. He should have known better. 

“When you get mad at him, let me know, okay? We’ll go do something stupid and dangerous. Get some anger out,” Mike nudged him. “You’ll get there, you know? To the anger part of this. And then we’ll move from there. Till then, we’ll let the rooks be mad at him. I’m pretty sure Max wants to make sure he doesn’t have any biological kids.” 

Oliver looked back at Max and Duke, who did seem to be having a pretty heated discussion on _something_ but he wasn’t brave enough to actually think about what it was about. He looked back at Mike who was giving him a small smile, he smiled back to be polite. 

*

The thing about a division rival is the shitty fact that you end up playing them a decent amount. He had three weeks of peace before he was forced to find the desire to go back to the arena. But, shockingly, he found that the game was nothing. There was little stress and the only time he saw Mikkel was on the ice. He didn’t even get chirped at by him. It was… supposed to feel good so he decided it did. He dutifully ignored the feeling of pain that came from being ignored by him. He couldn’t explain it to himself, so what was the chance he could explain it to anyone else. 

It was the next time, two and a half weeks later and almost four days before their next game against each other, that he got the text message. 

“MEEKS: _Want dinner on Friday? _”__

__He didn’t open the text, the stupid “Message Delivered” function on his iPhone was a curse, but he stared at the general message screen for a solid minute before he made himself put his phone on the charger and walk away. Because what the ever loving fuck was that bullshit. A month ago they were divorced and now Mikkel was just expecting dinner like it hadn’t fucked with his life completely._ _

__The text was left unanswered for a full day and a half. They lost in Calgary. Then in Vancouver and they were seated on the plane with little to do when he forced himself to not only open his phone but also the message in particular._ _

__“ _Why_ ” _ _

__He hadn’t exactly expected a response, or at least not one immediately but the response popped up almost instantaneously._ _

__“MEEKS: _Why not?_ ” _ _

__“ _Divorced people don’t go to dinner unless they have kids. We have no kids._ ” _ _

__“MEEKS: _Don’t tell Max or Duke that._ ” _ _

__A laugh fell out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Max and Duke turned to look at him and he looked hurriedly back at the phone. He typed out a rather clipped message about it being inappropriate and how little he wanted to do it but it the erase key before sending it._ _

__“ _This isn’t normal, Mikkel._ ” _ _

__“MEEKS: _When the hell have we ever been normal, Ollie? Morton’s, 6PM?_ ”_ _

__He could feel eyes on him so he sent a quick “Yes” and then locked his phone. He looked up in time to see Max walking back towards him, a shit eating grin on his face._ _

__“You have a date,” he said, wagging a finger in his general direction._ _

__Oliver felt his ears go instantly red, damn Nordic skin. He frowned. “Shut up, Max. I do not have a date.”_ _

__Max leaned in. “Is it a he or a she? Where? When? Can I vet them? I mean, I was cool with Mikkel but I didn’t have a choice there. Let me vet him. I got Social Media down.”_ _

__“I am twenty five,” Oliver said, his voice going higher than necessary. “I’m not _that_ out of it. At least I know not to favorite things as a joke…” _ _

__Max rolled his eyes. “One time. ONE TIME.”_ _

__“If you’d paid attention to our PR seminar,” Oliver said but then rubbed at his face. He sounded older than he was. “Dude, I don’t have a date.”_ _

__“Liar, stone cold liar. Tell me at least _you’ll_ do the proper stalking?” _ _

__Oliver gave him a dubious look. “I promise to do the proper internet stalking of my non-existent date. I’ll start now.” He pretended to pick up his phone and started to fidget with it. “Oh look, they have a dog. It looks like a corgi.”_ _

__*_ _

__Meeting Mikkel at Morton’s was like the weirdest flashback he could imagine. He was running just a minute or two early, so he’d expected to have some time to himself before he saw him but he was wrong. Mikkel already had a table and waved him over to the table before he could talk to the hostess. Oliver felt that weird stomach flip of missing a step as he walked towards him._ _

__Fuck if he didn’t look good. He looked just like he always had. He remembered the way the stupid table light made his hair somehow lighter, his eyes bluer. He was feeling like it was a first date. Not a … last date? He wasn’t even sure what the hell he was supposed to think of this as._ _

__“You’re early,” he said, slipping easily into Swedish._ _

__“Had to use a car service,” Mikkel returned, keeping the name of the service to himself. “You look nice.”_ _

__He looked down at the outfit he might have spent two or three hours staring at earlier in the day. “Thanks. So do you.”_ _

__“Thanks.”_ _

__And then there was silence. The painful kind that let the air out of a room and made him aware of every single action he was making. He put his hands down next to his sides and then went back to them on the table. He looked at the menu even though he ordered the same thing every single time._ _

__The waiter came along with a couple of bottles of beer. He looked at Mikkel and tried not to frown. He ordered for him. But it was what he would have ordered either way._ _

__“I’ll let you guys have some time to…” the waiter started but Oliver put his hand up._ _

__“We know what we want,” he said, smiling a stupidly wide smile. Two could play at this game. He placed both of their orders, down to the way Mikkel liked his steak and the oil and vinegar on the side for the asparagus. When he finished and the guy looked from him to Mikkel, Mikkel looked confused but nodded._ _

__He waited for the waiter to walk far enough away, which was relatively stupid as he leaned over the table and spoke in Swedish, like anyone in Phoenix knew the language. “You ordered for us?”_ _

__“You ordered my drink for me,” Oliver said casually._ _

__“That guy thinks we’re on a date,” Mikkel pointed out, and suddenly the joke of it wasn’t as funny. Oliver looked at Mikkel, who didn’t seem bothered and fuck._ _

__Oliver took a swig of his beer. “Well, he doesn’t know the whole story.”_ _

__“Few do,” Mikkel pointed out. “How are the kids?”_ _

__“You have their numbers,” Oliver said but sighed. “Max is doing okay, you talk with him, right? Duke is … well. He’s not playing as well as he should be. They keep having him in for extra practice.”_ _

__Mikkel’s eyes went wide. “Think he’ll get traded?”_ _

__“I think he’d get sent down before that,” Oliver said, sipping his beer again. “Z has been taking kids under his wing, you know?”_ _

__“Max doesn’t talk to me, actually,” Mikkel said, looking at his beer like it wasn’t just the normal bottle. “None of them do. Except the occasional threat.”_ _

__Oliver might have figured the team would close ranks, but to shut him out? “Do you want me to …?”_ _

__“No,” Mikkel snapped, then calmly swallowed. “I did this, Ollie. I know what I did. I will live with my actions.”_ _

__Oliver slid back in his seat, his body going lax with weird mixed feelings. “You… did what was best for you?”_ _

__“I did what I thought was best,” Mikkel nodded softly. “But in return I was selfish and hurt you. I see it. So I hurt you and I deal with it. I live with my choice.”_ _

__“That’s fucked up,” Oliver said. It might be what a part of him wanted. For Mikkel to suffer. For him to know how much he lost. But… not exactly like that. He put his hand out to almost touch him but Mikkel pulled his back._ _

__Mikkel cleared his throat. “Is Strome as young as he looks?”_ _

__It took a minute for Oliver to clear up his brain enough to think what exactly he was supposed to say. He looked around, but the answer was nowhere to be seen unfortunately. He leaned forward. “He gives Connor a run for his money. But what’s really astounding is Chychrun.”_ _

__“He’s pretty good on the ice,” Mikkel commented, obviously happier with the direction of the conversation._ _

__“He’s just pretty off the ice,” Oliver smiled. “He’s 18 but looks easily 22 and if I do a campaign in the US for OEL he’s my first ask. Man. The cheek bones. They could cut glass.”_ _

__Mikkel _didn’t_ look pleased with _that_ part of the conversation. Instead he was gritting his teeth. Oliver didn’t roll his eyes and point out that he was the one who divorced him and he would never date Chych, his sexuality aside, he was a literal child. _ _

__“He and Max share a house,” he said. “I call it the crib, children only.”_ _

__That seemed to calm him down considerably._ _

__*_ _

__By the time the bill came Oliver felt like he was going to burst in two, his stomach was so full of good food. Mikkel had insisted on dessert, gotten Oliver’s favorite and barely touched it. Oliver accused him of trying to rig the game for the next night and it was one of those moments where Oliver forgot. He forgot everything. All the pain and emptiness. He forgot the fights and the stress._ _

__Mikkel smiled at him and slipped his credit card into the black card holder, which the waiter promptly took._ _

__“Not going Dutch?” Oliver said in English, mostly to see the look of annoyance on Mikkel’s face. It was a bad joke, a horrible one really, but he liked making it and had for years. Even when Mikkel had mostly been putting up with him as a favor to Mads._ _

__There was a weird moment when the bill came back that was like a sudden realization. Whereas, in the past, this was when they would get in the car and go back to their house probably watch a movie or something… instead it was the end of the night._ _

__“You uh… you staying by the arena?” he asked, his hands fidgeting with his napkin._ _

__“Westin, actually,” Mikkel responded. “Apparently the Sharks splurge sometimes.”_ _

__Oliver swallowed and put his napkin down. “Let me drive you back.”_ _

__“Ollie, it’s out of the way,” Mikkel responded, his voice going weirdly soft._ _

__“I don’t trust Uber,” Oliver snapped. “They just get to know everything about you? It’s weird. I’ll take you back.”_ _

__Mikkel blinked at him but then shrugged. “Okay. Let’s go.”_ _

__Oliver got up and took stock of himself. He’d had two (well one and a half) beers, but it’d been over three or four hours. He’d went through plenty of water. He didn’t feel even the slightest buzz. Mikkel, probably figuring he didn’t have to drive, had had four. But knowing him he felt barely anything._ _

__He was good. The weird feeling in his blood was actually nerves, he figured. He walked through the crowded restaurant, parting the way slightly for Mikkel behind him._ _

__Outside he handed the ticket to the valet and went into his pocket to find cash._ _

__“Fan,” he hummed. “Do you have…?”_ _

__He turned to find Mikkel holding some cash out to him. “Still never carry cash?”_ _

__“You just use your card, it works better,” Oliver muttered. “Plus, I’m still used to you having cash… or Max. He’s been playing interference. I think they still all think I’m going to curl up in a ball and not leave my house.”_ _

__Mikkel shifted his feet, looking down. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Melk has been following me like a mother hen since we landed. I had to escape like a ninja.”_ _

__“Melk?” Oliver asked, his voice going a notch higher than usual. “You and the Swedes…”_ _

__His car pulled up before Mikkel could say anything but his stomach ached even though he knew Melk was most definitely not the type of guy Mikkel would go for nor Mikkel Melk’s type. It was just. Weird._ _

__After he handed the guy the tip he slid into the front seat, having to readjust the seat’s height. Mikkel had gotten into the other side but was giving him a strange look. He ignored it._ _

__The hotel wasn’t that far of a drive, but the first half being in dead silence did make it feel a little like it never was going to end. Mikkel cleared his throat a few times but never actually said anything. It was apparently up to Oliver to break the silence if he wanted to avoid it being the longest drive ever._ _

__“Did you get a house yet?” Oliver said, his eyes focused on the road and his hands twisting the leather tighter than necessary._ _

__Mikkel paused and in the corner of his eye he could see he was staring at Oliver. “Yeah. It’s… well. It’s a condo but it’s mine. I guess. I think I’ve slept in it about as much as hotels this year. It’s kind of like our first condo.”_ _

__“Small?”_ _

__“That place wasn’t small, it just wasn’t ridiculously huge,” Mikkel said, as if defending the actual honor of the condo they’d rented together for the first year or two. It hadn’t actually been that small, but he liked to say it was._ _

__It had felt like it was when they’d been dancing around each other. Everywhere he looked Mikkel had been. But that had turned out good… for a while and now it was … what it was._ _

__“You sharing?” Mikkel asked._ _

__“My last roommate didn’t turn out so well,” he said. “So I decided to solo it for a while. Besides, I don’t need a rookie following me around and bothering me.”_ _

__Mikkel let out a low laugh. “Yeah, they are the worst. Always asking you to translate for them. Taking up space. Buying you houses. Who needs that shit?”_ _

__Oliver felt a muscle pop in his jaw but he let it go. “Yep.”_ _

__The hotel was on the horizon, just past some shops. Oliver found his lead foot softening just slightly. He wanted to ask all sorts of questions, knew his window was closing quickly. But instead he just let the time go. Drove and let in the small familiarities seep in._ _

__Mikkel was fiddling with his seat belt, two fingers going up and down it in a way that used to drive him crazy. His car was small enough that he could smell Mikkel, the stupid expensive cologne he insisted on wearing and the soap that was all but standard NHL issue. A lot of things had faded in the time since he’d left him, having them come back was a twisted gift._ _

__“You didn’t have to give me a ride, Oliver,” Mikkel said, and they were just about to make the turn to the turnabout._ _

__“I told you, the car services …”_ _

__Mikkel put a hand up. “Trust me, I am more than aware of your feelings on car services. I just meant… Thank you.”_ _

__“You’re welcome,” he said, and they were in the turn about. A valet was coming around and Oliver was just about to wave him off when Mikkel jumped in._ _

__“Come up.”_ _

__Oliver turned to him. “What?”_ _

__“Come on, _please_.” _ _

__The door opened and he looked at Mikkel for a second._ _

__“Sir, can I help you?”_ _

__Oliver blinked back into awareness. “Oh, yeah. Uh. Let me get my extra key.”_ _

__He slid the valet key off the key set and handed it over, all the while not making direct eye contact with the valet. Rude, yes, but he was riding on a very low amount of courage at the second and the last thing he needed was anyone showing him an ounce of doubt because he would bolt._ _

__Mikkel stared at him the whole time, a nervous smile on his face. He wondered if he had some idea of what they were doing because he had no idea. At all._ _

__He accepted the ticket and started to follow him. There were a few people standing outside and Oliver’s stomach tightened. A picture was inevitable. Not that it would be that big of a deal, Arizona’s thoughts on their team were well known and they were rarely featured like the bigger teams were._ _

__It still made him feel uncomfortable._ _

__The lobby was open and essentially empty, staff doing their work and only looking up to welcome them. Mikkel was looking around nervously and Oliver realized that he was probably a little worried about teammates._ _

___Then why did you ask me in?_ he didn’t ask. _ _

__They were quiet in the elevator, but the doors opened and Mikkel had the right to be uncomfortable. A group of guys in casual clothes were waiting for the elevator when it opened. Oliver recognized most of them, a few were too young for him to have really followed ever. Melk was in the back._ _

__“Tjenna Ekman-Larsson,” Melk said, lifting his hand._ _

__Oliver nodded at him and watched as Melk looked over at Mikkel and raised an eyebrow at him. It was all about as comfortable as he assumed it would be. He stepped as far away from the elevator as possible to let the guys on, hearing one of the young guys asking his teammate if that really was ‘Oliver Fucking Ekman-Larsson’, which earned him a smile._ _

__“We’re grabbing some beers do you wanna…” Martin Jones started but stopped and then turned around to look at Melk. When he looked back he saluted. “Never mind. Back in a few hours.”_ _

__Mikkel let out a noise when the doors closed. “Yeah, Melk isn’t going to let me live this down, ever.”_ _

__Biting down on the question of what _this was_ Oliver laughed. “Yeah, he seems like he might have some comments.” _ _

__“Fuck,” Mikkel said as he turned around and walked down the aisle. “Do they teach passive aggressive questioning in Sweden? It’s a class, isn’t it?”_ _

__Oliver would defend his country but eh. “It’s actually passed down. You’ve only met my nice mom. You should talk to her now.”_ _

__“Yeah, I’m good,” Mikkel said. He had obviously found his door, slipped a key in the slot and turned it. They walked in, Mikkel letting Oliver in first._ _

__He’d forgotten that the rooms here were far nicer but still quite small for hotel rooms. Or maybe they just felt like they were small in the moment. He looked around to find one bed, a desk with chair and a single small armchair. He took the armchair because he was hoping it was the least presumptuous._ _

__Mikkel took the bed, seated on the edge with his hands intertwined for him to stare at. Oliver wanted, really really wanted, to bridge the gap and intertwine their fingers but the clear mark where Mikkel’s wedding ring _had_ been was enough of a reminder to keep him where he was. _ _

__“Now what?” Oliver finally said, loud in the awkward silence._ _

__“What?” Mikkel jerked his head up._ _

__Oliver tilted his head. “You invited me up, Mikkel.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Mikkel said. “I thought we could… I don’t know. I thought we could talk. Or… maybe um. Watch a movie.”_ _

__“A movie? Mikkel. What the hell?”_ _

__He got a frown in return. “Look. We were friends before we were m… **before**. I miss you. I was just thinking we get maybe a few more hours in before we don’t see each other for a while.” _ _

__“You know we are in the same division and see each other at least three more times, right?” Oliver was not good with Mikkel’s pleading look, so he put his hand up. “It’s your room bill. Do you think there is anything good on?”_ _

__Mikkel threw him the remote. “I don’t know, find out.”_ _

__*_ _

__After much debate they ended up watching Captain America Civil War, because even though Oliver would deny it to the grave he had a bit of a thing for both Sebastian Stan and Scarlett Johansson. A fact that Mikkel mocked him for rather relentlessly as they watched._ _

__Before the movie started there was an awkward moment where they realized the only reasonable way to watch it was the two of them on the bed. He almost put his foot down about a pillow fort between them but even he could see that was childish._ _

__He’d seen the movie before. He’d gone with Kevin over the break. He didn’t _mean_ to spend most of the movie focusing more on Mikkel than the movie. Nor did he intend on getting as comfortable as he had. Focusing on someone else’s breathing and the way they shifted in bed when you are watching TV on a bed… well. He’d been so nervous that his nap hadn’t been great. He couldn’t be blamed for falling asleep._ _

__When he woke up the TV was back at the order screen and Mikkel was beside him, also fast asleep. Glamorous road life._ _

__For a singular moment he forgot. How many times had he woken up like this? Mikkel curled up on his side, face pressed to the pillow and drooling. Hair completely standing on end because he never got his haircut during the season. A random hotel room in a random place, the two of them falling all over themselves because the two of them had pushed themselves too far._ _

__But a teal shirt on the table nearby was the little nudge that shook off his sleep haze. He checked the clock. It was almost eleven at night and he was in bed with Mikkel. He was in the _wrong bed_. He moved quickly, pushing himself back to the point where he almost fell off. Thankfully he was quick enough to catch himself just at the edge. _ _

__Mikkel made a noise of disapproval but then shifted down a little and rested again. It was one of those moments where he wanted nothing more than to get back in the bed but his rational side was stronger, thankfully._ _

__He slipped his shoes on, double checked he had his keys and let the door lock barely click behind him._ _

__The hallway was blessedly empty and though it felt like he was doing the lamest walk of shame possible, he crept to the elevator. At least the valets didn’t seem to notice him, or if they did they had the decency to just let him go with his shreds of dignity._ _

__*_ _

__That next night at the game things were surprisingly not as awkward as he thought. The guys continued to act weird around Mikkel, but Mikkel wasn’t weird to him and that was actually kind of nice._ _

__The weeks traveled like any other season he played, with one notable difference. Instead of in his past, where he spent all his off time with Mikkel doing things from golfing to rather fun afternoons in bed, he found himself trying to find a life in Phoenix without him._ _

__He hung out with Max, Duke and Chych a decent amount, mostly because they were the single ones and he was more or less happy not being reminded he was alone. Chych dragged Crouse out slowly but surely and even though Oliver swore he would never do it, he pulled Chych aside to talk to him about what that meant._ _

__Chych, at 18, assumed it was all fun and games. _Buddies_. Against his gut reaction, he let him have it. He figured if he was told when he landed in Phoenix what would happen with he and Mikkel he probably would have denied it and still had it fall apart. He almost could say it was worth it. _ _

__He and Mikkel were back to texting level, with the occasional call. Nothing too intense. It was just friendly. Banter and chides. Mikkel comforting him sometimes as the season unraveled before him._ _

__OLIVER: “ _Bet you’re glad you aren’t an Av_.”_ _

__MIKKEL: “ _Yeah, but I would be proud to be a Yote._ ”_ _

__Even if it wasn’t true, even if the Sharks were post season bound, well. It was nice to pretend he meant it._ _

__By the time February appeared it was almost a slap to the face for him. The year had rolled by too fast. There wasn’t enough time for them to make it somewhere and the end of the month loomed ahead of them. He looked around the locker room every night and wondered who was going and how it was going to go down._ _

__It felt bleak._ _

__He called Mikkel the night before he was supposed to fly in to San Jose for a game. The ambient sound made him feel like he called at the wrong time._ _

__“Ollie, you okay?”_ _

__Oliver couldn’t help but a little bitter laugh. “Yeah. Awesome.”_ _

__The background noise changed, and suddenly it was quiet. “What’s going on?”_ _

__“We’re in second to last place, my team is about to blow up and I’m miserable,” he blurted out. “Everyone is miserable. Max misses Duke. They are thinking of sending Shane somewhere to get his ring. I live in a huge echo chamber. What the fuck is going on in my life?”_ _

__Maybe he didn’t need to say _all of that_ to Mikkel. Probably he should just make some joke out of it and back out as fast as he could but he’d started it and his whole body felt like it was full with the words that should be said. _ _

__“And I get to play you tomorrow. Which I’m excited about. And I shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t be, Mikkel. You are my ex-husband. You don’t just talk to your ex. You move on. And I’m not moving on. It’s been nearly a year and I’m _excited to see you _. This isn’t normal.”___ _

____Mikkel sighed. “Why do you want to be normal, Ollie?”_ _ _ _

____“I want to move on!” Oliver snapped. And once he said it, his stomach churned. It was, more or less, true. He couldn’t live in this limbo much longer. It was getting to the point where he was driving himself crazy. Hanging with the guys during the day. Texting Mikkel non stop. It was… not right._ _ _ _

____“You want to move on?” Mikkel’s voice sounded like it broke a little._ _ _ _

____“I can’t live this half life. Missing you all the time, playing like I’m somewhere else with others.”_ _ _ _

____“I know, it feels like a lie,” Mikkel said softly. “I just don’t want to give you up. What does that say about me?”_ _ _ _

____Oliver had a few choice words as to what that said about him but kept them to himself. “It says we shouldn’t be doing this, Meeks. I wish we could but we can’t.”_ _ _ _

____“You can’t just decide that.”_ _ _ _

____“I DIDN’T DECIDE THAT,” he snapped, surprising even himself. “You did, you chose this.”_ _ _ _

____Mikkel’s voice was going higher and fast and he slipped into Danish for a second but then came back. “Okay, no, that isn’t… that’s fair… _I’m sorry, fuck_. You have to understand…. When does your plane get it in?” _ _ _ _

____“I think we leave at three,” Oliver sighed, looking over at the paper that had the information. “So six? Or five?” He hated time zones._ _ _ _

____“Call me, okay? Let me come to you. We can talk?”_ _ _ _

____He never particularly had clear rational thinking about Mikkel._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____They landed just past five in the evening that next night and once they got to the hotel rather than call, he simply texted his room number to Mikkel. His nerves were frayed, he hadn’t slept well and the whole fact of the matter was he didn’t want to be there a particularly. Seeing Mikkel was going to make him second guess himself, like always. He was too weak when it came to him._ _ _ _

____Twenty minutes after the text, there was thumping at his door._ _ _ _

____Mikkel walked into his hotel room like he owned it and sadly Oliver didn’t even fight it. He had plans, words he was going to say to tell Mikkel that everything they were doing was dumb but it wasn’t exactly possible when Mikkel waited for the second the door closed before he was on him like an octopus, one hand holding his wrists up and the other holding onto him like he might run away._ _ _ _

____He might have. If his brain was functioning on all cylinders, which it really wasn’t. Instead he inhaled deeply through his nose and let Mikkel get away with what he wanted. It had been a month, maybe two, and it already felt like it was an eternity. He missed the feeling of Mikkel’s mouth on his skin, the way his hand fit perfectly in the place his muscles met at his hips._ _ _ _

____When things were good, when they were real and not the fucked up version of whatever it was, he liked to think they were made for each other. Cheesy, yes, but he’d always believed in that type of love. His parents had it, and so did his grandparents. He watched them move around each other with the awareness of decades together. He’d hoped they’d reach that._ _ _ _

____This was the closest they’d get, he thought stupidly._ _ _ _

____Mikkel’s nose was in his neck, nuzzling softly and the fuzz on his face was tickling the crook of his neck. He didn’t laugh though, didn’t do much beyond tilt his head further back to give him space. It was like he was skating on the thinnest of ice. This was the closest he could allow himself. Mikkel was the wind keeping him moving._ _ _ _

____“Bed, Ollie,” Mikkel said, and Oliver followed. He moved while looking directly at Mikkel, stripping down as he walked. He’d been shirtless when the door had been knocked on but he kicked off his pants and his underwear. Mikkel did the same._ _ _ _

____A sick thrill hit him when he saw that Mikkel was wearing his OEL underwear. He stared at it like it was a tattoo, like he’d never see it again. He wanted it seared in his brain. He laid down and Mikkel was on top of him in a hot minute._ _ _ _

____His brain said, quite clearly, ‘This is a bad choice, Mikkel, let’s stop.’ but his mouth opened and nothing came out. He put a hand out and grabbed for Mikkel’s underwear, tracing a finger along the top of the band and snapping it. He pulled back when he got a sudden look._ _ _ _

____Mikkel looked down and if Oliver wasn’t mistaken a blush came out on the top of his cheeks. Still his voice was cocky when he looked up. “You like that?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah,” he exhaled._ _ _ _

____His hand was being grabbed at the wrist, Mikkel leading him to the underwear again. “I like to wear them sometimes. Reminds me of who I … what we were. Burnsie likes to tease me about it.”_ _ _ _

____The idea that not only did he wear the underwear but others saw it sent a thrill up Oliver’s spine. He leaned up and put his free hand on the back of Mikkel’s neck to pull him down for a kiss._ _ _ _

____“Mine,” he whispered, so low that even though he knew that Mikkel could hear it, it still felt like a secret that only he would keep._ _ _ _

____Mikkel flipped him over and the next thing he knew he was face down on the pillow. It was a pretty familiar position, except he was used to _not_ doing this in hotels. It wasn’t something they’d ever done on a trip. But he put his hands down and inhaled the too clean smell of hotel pillows. _ _ _ _

____Lips brushed against his shoulders and then the base of his neck._ _ _ _

____He heard a soft, “Mine.”_ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____He isn’t shocked the next morning when he was alone in his room. He tried to tamp down the feeling of pain in his chest and rather put his hands through his hair. He checked his phone. At least Mikkel had had the decency to plug it in and put the alarm on._ _ _ _

____He’d felt the push and pull for the entire season. This was why he’d clearly told himself that he was going to end it the night before. Except he hadn’t, _again_. Instead he’d done exactly what he always did. He let himself be taken away and put into a stupor. It made him feel stupid and childish and gross. _ _ _ _

____There wasn’t any texts on his phone from Mikkel. (There was one from his mom, which just made the whole thing worse, really.)_ _ _ _

____He opened the message box either way. He stared at the little blinking line for a long time before he started typing._ _ _ _

____“ _I can’t do this anymore, M. This isn’t fair to you or me. You want this to be over, it’s over. I don’t want to be your pity sex. I’m done._ ” _ _ _ _

____He sent it without allowing himself to think, switching it to silent mode and going to grab a shower before he would go downstairs for team breakfast._ _ _ _

____The guys, as always, were walking on eggshells around him. He’d talked to Shane about it, asked Mike to spread the word that it was beyond okay, but for the one day he was going to allow himself be treated that way. He felt like … well. Shit. And like they’d just broken up, _again_ , for who knows what amount of time. _ _ _ _

____He sat down next to Mike, who was seated next to Louis having what he assumed to be a deep and intense Goalie conversation about Goalie things, and he was okay with that. He ate his balanced meal with no real knowledge of what was in front of him. That was no insult to the amazing cooks they had, he just wasn’t particularly hungry and even more he wasn’t happy enough to really tell what it was._ _ _ _

____At one point he caught Max’s eyes, which was a mistake. Max looked at him for all of three seconds before his eyes widened and his face went red and the whole thing was there. He knew it. Max knew it. It wasn’t like he was good at hiding his feelings, Max was also just painfully good at reading him sometimes._ _ _ _

____He watched as one of Max’s fists clenched and then he looked away. Not the time, not the place. Though he doubted the game that night was going to go well if Max was pissed and he was tired and annoyed._ _ _ _

____He finished his food quickly and tried his best to walk ‘casually’ back to the lobby so he could wait out the team bus in peace. It lasted all of thirty seconds before Max sat down beside him and leaned in._ _ _ _

____“You were supposed to be dating someone _new_ , Ollie,” Max said under his breath. “What the hell are you doing going back to that? You’re divorced. He _divorced_ you.” _ _ _ _

____Oliver’s eyebrows knitted together. “You don’t know that. It could be amicable. We moved cities. He lives here now. A marriage doesn’t work from a thousand miles apart.”_ _ _ _

____“Ask the Scrivens about that,” Max pointed out. “Either way. It was him. I knew you guys. You and he were … well. Disgustingly cute. Like Lou and his girl cute.”_ _ _ _

____Which meant gross, pure and simple. Those two were a little too in love. The fact that made his chest feel heavy was probably a bad sign._ _ _ _

____“And then he got that… I don’t know. Annoyed thing going on with the people in the front and everything went sideways. I thought he was just being his cranky old man self. But… you guys were fighting, right?”_ _ _ _

____Oliver didn’t have the energy to lie nor tell the whole story so he just nodded. Yes, the stupid re-signing bullshit weighed heavily on the relationship. It was like the plague, it infected the two of them. Mikkel thought he wasn’t supporting him, Oliver didn’t understand how he could turn down 5 for 5 when it meant they would be playing together and five MILLION a year. He lived for free._ _ _ _

____His fists were clenched at his side, which didn’t go missed by Max._ _ _ _

____“And then you have a freaking booty call when he wants it? Come on, Oliver. That’s bullshit. Straight up bullshit. Booty calls are mutually beneficial and do not leave one of them looking like they ate glass,” Max said. He’s pretty sure he’d said something similar to Max over the last year. Minus the glass part. Just… the booty call part._ _ _ _

____Oliver had nothing to say, really. He shrugged and found that his hand pulled up and landed on one of the marks that Mikkel had left the night before. He looked over at Max. “How many?”_ _ _ _

____“You look like a fucking octopus attacked,” Max made a face. “Doesn’t he know you’re supposed to hide that shit.”_ _ _ _

____He couldn’t even pull up his hoodie, as it was pretty loose. It wasn’t cold outside and he would be suited up soon enough for practice. He slumped down in his seat. “Shit.”_ _ _ _

____Max sat next to him looking moody so Oliver at least had that as a break, he was not looking forward to the questions he would no doubt get in the locker room._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____The game was fucking _dirty_. Oliver felt distinctly like the whole team knew everything but the thing is he couldn’t tell for certain as mostly the locker room as normal in the breaks. They got a talking to from Shane during the first period was apparently they wanted to score _more often_ than the other team. They took bathroom breaks in turn, grabbed water. Max got his numbers checked. _ _ _ _

____But on the ice? It was like he had his own personal defensemen, only **he was the defensemen here** and he was not in the mood to play damsel in fucking distress. So he played harder. He pushed around guys and gently boarded one of his own players and scored, twice, in the second period. _ _ _ _

____On the second goal he saw Mikkel just a foot or so away from him. He looked up at Oliver and Oliver almost fell over because two of his players had hit him at the same time. He turned and smiled and celebrated because that was what someone who scored did, looking back to find Mikkel’s head down going back to his bench._ _ _ _

_____Over_ , he more or less chanted in his head. He tried his best to remember this was just his team playing another. But the rest of the team wasn’t really playing that way. _ _ _ _

____During second break he slid next to Max, who was getting his numbers checked again. “Who the hell did you tell?”_ _ _ _

____“No one,” Max blinked, so obviously faux innocently it was pathetic. He finally sighed and tilted his head at Jordie._ _ _ _

____“Martinook,” Oliver called out. Jordie looked up at him. “What the fuck?”_ _ _ _

____Jordie shrugged. “He deserves it.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose tightly and stood up. They were winning, so Shane’s speech was a short little ‘Rah rah’ rather than a long, ‘Listen up’ type speech. Oliver? Was going to do the latter._ _ _ _

____“Listen up,” he said. “I know apparently you all know at least enough to think it’s okay to protect me. I’ll say this once. STOP. I don’t need protection here. I am the defense. You scrappy little fucks are messing with my game. And I’m fine, by the way.”_ _ _ _

____From beside him he heard Max mutter. “Liar.”_ _ _ _

____“I’ll deal with you later, Domi,” Oliver said, poking Max on his temple._ _ _ _

____He got a lot of looks from around the room, but by the time they all suited up and started to walk out onto the ice the mood mostly shifted. He was fairly sure he would be able to keep up with the rest of them. Except maybe Mike and Shane, who were waiting for him at the door._ _ _ _

____“You can tell almost everyone in that room what to do,” Mike said. “But not us.”_ _ _ _

____Shane did that weird over arm muscle flex and nodded. “If we want to, we’re going to fight him.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m fine,” Oliver said._ _ _ _

____“While I would generally agree with a guy who has that many freaking hickeys on his chest,” Mike said, putting his finger on one near the bottom of his neck. Oliver smacked his finger away. “I will disagree this time.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver tried to think of all the logical reasons that he was going to tell him to stop it but it didn’t seem to matter. He was getting the look of death from both the Captain and the goalie and in the long run he’d learned not to fight them. They only had one period left to make it through and at that moment he was just hoping to make it out with Mikkel unscathed._ _ _ _

____They got back on the ice and Mikkel was staring him down. He got out on the ice in time for Mikkel to skate past him._ _ _ _

____“I want to talk after the game,” Mikkel called, and when Oliver got the puck he took the opportunity to push him up against the glass. “This isn’t over.”_ _ _ _

____Max was over to him in a swift move. “Get the fuck off, Boedker.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver frowned, not sure at which of them. He did respond to them both when he called out. “Just fucking stop.”_ _ _ _

____Mikkel looked more than just a little put out but Max was mostly used to his yelling at him like that. They kept pushing through the game. At a few points he got pushed up against walls by Mikkel, making it hard for him to _actually_ play the damn game but he wasn’t nearly as annoyed as Shane who took it upon himself to call attention to it as often as possible. _ _ _ _

____Either way, in the end, they won. It was a pleasant shock, they were playing a team that had much better chance at going somewhere then they did. But it was still painful and tiring, even with the win. He didn’t let himself show it in the locker room though. He was pretty sure it wasn’t just the media that was awaiting his reaction and the last thing he needed was more parenting._ _ _ _

____He got home in the middle of the night to a few missed calls from Mikkel whose team had also left immediately after the game. He erased the messages and swallowed hard. When he said he was done he meant it. Even if he kind of wanted to scream when he saw the fact that his bed was made on both sides and would remain so for the foreseeable future._ _ _ _

____He just had to make it through the damn season and life would move on. At least, that’s what he told himself._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____The rest of the season for Oliver went by in a series of stumbles and falls._ _ _ _

____They played the Sharks one last time a week and a half later, losing quite horribly. The nice part being only that he was able to keep himself away from Mikkel and keep his friends to only minor checks and hits._ _ _ _

____Trade deadline hit like a mack truck and then after that there were just basically licking wounds to get to the end of the year. The higher ups kept using the term ‘rebuilding’ like it mattered but in the end they went out second to last._ _ _ _

____At least, as he told himself, the Avs were there to cushion their fall even if it risked their chance in getting a good pick for the next season._ _ _ _

____Frankly though, the last thing he wanted to think about was the next season._ _ _ _

____The Sharks did make it to the postseason, as it happened. Not that he was actually following that team. They hadn’t played them for the rest of the season so it wasn’t like he had a need to watch them. But his ESPN app liked to keep him updated on their division. The Sharks were doing well, actually making it past the first round._ _ _ _

____Oliver stayed in Phoenix for a short while to get things cleared up, then to get some practice in with a therapist over a nagging shoulder. After a while he realized he was just staying to stay and there was nothing he could do in Phoenix he couldn’t do in Stockholm, where he could actually see his family and maybe get some time to move on._ _ _ _

____Late at night, when he was watching the NHL channel’s recap of the cup race for the fourth time he found that he needed out. He pulled out the app on his phone and booked the flight for the next evening._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____He landed in Stockholm and felt the usual pull of his body to his bed. The airport was hellish, as always, and he had to find a car that would take him home. Or to his apartment. Having two places that you live was confusing. He was so out of it that he didn’t even turn his cellphone on until he was about halfway through the drive to his house._ _ _ _

____The screen, once it attached to the satellite, went crazy. There were messages missed, both voice and text. His WhatsApp was full to the brim of people chatting at him. He blinked at the phone like maybe if he waited a second it would realize it was going to the wrong phone and fix itself._ _ _ _

____It didn’t._ _ _ _

____He tentatively went to his messages. There were a series from Kevin, who was asking the basics of everything about his arrival and then stopped to just say, “ _Dude. DUDE. DUUUUUUUUDE. Oh man._ ” _ _ _ _

____Max just sent a series of “ _Call me_ ” every twenty minutes for what appeared like the entirety of his flight. Not like he didn’t know where the fuck he was going. He had dropped him off at the freaking airport. _ _ _ _

____He risked going into his voicemail and found one of Max’s calls._ _ _ _

____“ _Fucker, you are somewhere over the Atlantic and Mikkel is at my house and I need you to not be somewhere over the Atlantic because what the hell am I supposed to do with Mikkel right now. He is all emotions. Call me._ ” _ _ _ _

____Even though he was about ninety percent sure it was dead center middle of the night in Phoenix, he hit call back faster than he could think. It rang a few times and Max answered._ _ _ _

____“Fucker, how long does it take to get to freaking Stockholm?”_ _ _ _

____“Fourteen hours,” he said. “What do you mean Mikkel is with you? He should be in San Jose or Jersey.”_ _ _ _

____Max let out a noise. “Jersey knocked out San Jose yesterday, or two days ago? Sometime? What time is it? Fuck. Anyway. Mikkel is gone.”_ _ _ _

____“ _WHY WAS HE THERE?_ ” _ _ _ _

____The driver looked back at him and he tried to smile in the least crazy manner possible. It was apparently not that effective as the driver sped up a little. Oliver wished himself good luck, as it was Stockholm and it was mid afternoon. He could try and escape as fast as he wanted to._ _ _ _

____“He was looking for you, dumbass.”_ _ _ _

____Even though he really really didn’t want to feel it, a pang in his chest came sharp and sudden. He missed his chance to see Mikkel. Mikkel wanted to see him. He put his hand out and braced himself as the driver startled to a stop in traffic._ _ _ _

____“And he left?”_ _ _ _

____“I’m the one who was just woken up, right?” Max said. “Yeah, he did. He seemed pretty dedicated though. He didn’t even stay in San Jose for clean out.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver rolled his eyes, like that was a fact he cared about. “Do you know where he went?”_ _ _ _

____“No, he just got up and left after being in my house staring at the wall for an hour or two. Chych stared at him like he might fight him. It was kind of oddly endearing. Fighting for your honor when he wasn’t even here for it. Are all rookies annoying and yet you feel attached? Or is it just _your rookies_? Am I oddly endearing to you?” _ _ _ _

____“Go back to bed, Max,” Oliver sighed._ _ _ _

____Max laughed. “Taking that as a yes. Night. Or day. Fuck.”_ _ _ _

____The phone line went dead and then he heard a noise from the front seat. The driver was looking in the rear view mirror again and Oliver turned to find that they were at his building. “Oh. Wow.”_ _ _ _

____He got out and the driver followed, opening the trunk to grab his bag. He’d packed pretty light. He kept a pretty full stock of clothes here. Mostly OEL gear, but as it was mostly sold here he’d learned to think of it as advertisement and not laziness._ _ _ _

____Thankful that he’d changed some of his cash over in the Phoenix airport he grabbed enough kronar to pay and tip the driver. He was getting better at the cash thing. Mostly. The guy offered to help him to his apartment but he waved him off. He still had to call his brother and figure out what the hell was going on._ _ _ _

____In the elevator was one of the few neighbors he’d met in the past. She smiled at him and he smiled back. His palms itched to dial his brother’s number but she was staring at him. Time was painfully slow and he only lived on the eighth floor._ _ _ _

____“You back for the summer?” the lady asked._ _ _ _

____“I think,” he said, pushing himself up onto the balls of his feet and falling back. How slow could it go? Was it going back down without telling them? It ticked up another level. “I might do some traveling.”_ _ _ _

____She laughed. “Don’t you do that enough in America?”_ _ _ _

____“Not the fun kind,” he said, smile feeling fake. It was the seventh floor and his heart was beating fast. He filled the silence. “Might try Australia or Japan. Never been really that foreign of places.”_ _ _ _

____It clicked over to eight and the doors opened. He felt like his whole body was a coil. “Oh thank fuck. Err, I mean, have a nice day.”_ _ _ _

____He sprung down the hallway to his apartment and slipped his key in. He’d had some nice ladies come in and air it out, clean up and fill the fridge, but even still it felt stiff and overly still when he walked in. He threw his bag onto the corner of his couch._ _ _ _

____He grabbed his phone to call Kevin but rather his mother was calling him already. He answered._ _ _ _

____“Mama,” he said, and tried not to sound disappointed. “How are you?”_ _ _ _

____She tutted. “I’d be better if I wasn’t worrying about my child. Are you okay?”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, of course. I just landed. Well, I just arrived at the apartment. Why would I not be?”_ _ _ _

____“Your brother has called me to check your arrival time six times in the last hour and a half. I was wondering if your flight had gone down.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver put a hand to his forehead. “No, Kevin is just being a pain in the ass.”_ _ _ _

____“Oliver,” his mother rebuked but stepped over his apology. “Is there something I should know about?”_ _ _ _

____The thing was, he didn’t exactly know. He had guesses, of course he had guesses. Some of them were pretty simple, Mikkel gave up and some were kind of like that moment on a roller coaster where your stomach flips, Mikkel was on his way to Sweden right this moment. But he _didn’t know_ and Max hadn’t known and he had a feeling Kevin knew but he wasn’t on the phone with Kevin. So he had to answer honestly. _ _ _ _

____“No mama,” he said, even though the truth still felt like a lie. “Nothing that I know of.”_ _ _ _

____His mother hemmed. “It’s about that _boy_.” _ _ _ _

____“Probably?”_ _ _ _

____His mother, at one time, loved Mikkel with all she had. She had joked one of her visits to Phoenix, even before they’d admitted to dating, that he was like her third son. He was the kind of guy every mom loved. He was silly and kind and always did the dishes for _her_ and made sure that she was comfortable. But then he broke her son’s heart and his name had become a curse word to her. She never used it. _ _ _ _

____“Oliver, do you really think you should be talking to M… _him_? You’ve been doing so well and I’ve seen the change in you. You’ve been smiling more…” _ _ _ _

____He closed his eyes tight and held the phone away from his ear so he could sigh. She was right, as mom’s usually were. But that didn’t make him feel any better. When he went to put the phone back to his ear he saw that Kevin was calling. “Look, Mama, Kevin is calling me, I’m going to answer and I’ll try and get back to you soon with answers. I love you.”_ _ _ _

____He hung up in the middle of her returned I love you, which he would hear about for months to come. But he was afraid it would go to voicemail. He hit the switch call button._ _ _ _

____“Kevin?”_ _ _ _

____“OLIVER,” his brother screamed loud enough for him to flinch. “Where the fuck have you been?”_ _ _ _

____He rolled his eyes. Doesn’t anyone remember flight time? “In the air, dumb ass. They haven’t started teleportation.”_ _ _ _

____“Mikkel called me.”_ _ _ _

____Even though he’d assumed it, the words were a gut punch. “Yeah?”_ _ _ _

____“He asked me your address, Ollie. Why would he ask me your address?”_ _ _ _

____His brain tried to logically tell him it was because he’d moved last summer, trying to find space where Mikkel hadn’t been in Stockholm but the rest of him was tense and frustrated. WHY would he want his address? It wasn’t like he was supposed to send him a damn care package._ _ _ _

____Maybe he had things… things that were Ollie’s? That got mixed up. No. They’d seen each other too many time s in the past for that to be reasonable._ _ _ _

____“OLIVER,” Kevin’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Why did your ex husband call me about your address?”_ _ _ _

____“Did you give it to him?”_ _ _ _

____Kevin let out a strained noise. “No, you freak. I didn’t know if you wanted me to, also he was being all cagey and I didn’t like it. I tried to get him to tell me what the fuck was going on but he kept going around the subject. Kind of like you are.”_ _ _ _

____“Look, I don’t know what is going on,” Oliver said, perfectly honestly. “Apparently he flew to Phoenix after the loss but I wasn’t there. So he left… that’s all I know.”_ _ _ _

____“Ollie, he was pretty firm on getting your new address,” Kevin said. “Like, when I didn’t give it, he threatened to call our parents.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver shuddered, THAT would take a lot of guts on Mikkel’s part. His dad was displeased with the situation but his mom was straight up mama bear. He could only imagine the conversation that would transpire if he dared to call her and actually try to talk logically with her._ _ _ _

____Thankfully he knew that hadn’t happened as his mother hadn’t said anything nor had she asked for help getting to America to murder someone. He threw himself down onto the couch and let his legs fall off the side. The one thing he missed when he was in Stockholm, _space_. It was like America was made of it. _ _ _ _

____“Fuck,” Oliver said. He knew the logical answer to his next question but his brain was trying to nix all thoughts of it. “Do you think he’s coming here?”_ _ _ _

____Kevin laughed. “Gee, Ollie, thanks for joining the class.”_ _ _ _

____“Fuck you,” he snapped. “He can’t come here. We haven’t even talked in a month.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, get ready to freaking talk,” Kevin said. “At least you know that you have time. You had at least a six hour start on him and who knows how long till he got a flight. Plus he doesn’t know your address.”_ _ _ _

____Sometimes he and his little brother had a weird strained relationship, one that was strained and full of push and pull but as they’d grown he’d learn to appreciate the punk. Six hours. Most likely more. He looked at the ceiling._ _ _ _

____“Okay, I can totally do this,” he said. “I can totally do this.”_ _ _ _

____“Or you could fail spectacularly.”_ _ _ _

____And sometimes he hated the punk._ _ _ _

____“Thanks, bro.”_ _ _ _

____“What?” Kevin laughed. “Not helpful?”_ _ _ _

____Oliver rubbed at his eyes. “Totally helpful. He really sounded desperate.”_ _ _ _

____“I talked him down from _calling mom_ , Oliver. Is there anymore serious than that?” _ _ _ _

____He had a point._ _ _ _

____Where the hell had all this come from? He’d had a month, more than that, to talk to him and nothing. What had been worth a flight to Sweden for him?_ _ _ _

____“Look, Kevin,” Oliver said. “I’m… going to try and figure this out.”_ _ _ _

____“I better get a text, bitch.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver closed his eyes and thought of the times Kevin was nice and endearing. Like twenty years ago. “I will.”_ _ _ _

____As soon as he hung up he went back through the texts that’d been sent to him. None of them were from Mikkel, still, and none of the messages. He clicked his WhatsApp and found that there was one singular message from Mikkel. His finger hesitated over the small button. He didn’t know what was waiting for him but he was sure he wasn’t ready for it._ _ _ _

____Six hours. He had six hours, at the least. His brother was right. He backed out of the app and slipped the phone into his pocket. He forced himself back to a seated position and stared around his living room. It was mid afternoon. He was in Stockholm. He had time and he needed nothing more than to escape this moment._ _ _ _

____He pushed himself up and grabbed at his keys. He slipped his shoes back on. He looked around again and he left his apartment in one quick series of clicks. This was too much for him._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____He walked through the streets around his apartment, probably for the first time ever. Granted he’d technically only lived there for the three or so months from the summer beforehand and he’d been decently mopey at the time. He found there was a lot of small shops that he would find interesting to actually adventure in when he wasn’t hyped off adrenaline and, frankly, fear._ _ _ _

____There was one little bakery he walked into and, after devouring a croissant, he grabbed a box full of various snacks. It was the off season after all and he was pretty sure no matter what the near future brought, a muffin wouldn’t be a bad thing to have on hand._ _ _ _

____He saw some lefse in the corner, something he wasn’t the biggest fan of (he wouldn’t turn it down) but he knew that Mikkel preferred them. He added them to his list without letting himself think about it._ _ _ _

____A few hours passed as he wandered and he got to the top of the road and then started to walk back down the winding road. He was avoiding and he was perfectly aware of it. His phone had buzzed a few times in his pockets, but each time he checked it was Max or Kevin checking in. He was not stupid enough to think that Mikkel could have boarded a plane and landed by now. Except, his heart jumped up into his chest before he could think about it when he felt the buzz._ _ _ _

____By the time he got back to his apartment he was, at very least, calmer than when he’d left. He was also so jet lagged he could barely stand but a part of him was anxious to sleep on the off chance that he would miss a call from Mikkel. He knew he’d put it off as long as he could get away with so he opened his WhatsApp and pulled together what bravery he had left to read what Mikkel had said._ _ _ _

____“ _I don’t know where you are, but I need you to know where I am. I am on my way, Oliver. Please don’t run, I’ve done that enough for both of us. I know I haven’t earned it but I hope that you can give me a chance to talk to you and that you listen. I love you._ ” _ _ _ _

____His chest tightened so quickly he was pretty sure he knew what a heart attack felt like. He took deep breaths and held them to try and calm down his heart beat. Whatever fear of sleep was gone as soon as he read it, then reread it and then for good measure read it again._ _ _ _

____Letting his fingers linger over the box he hesitated with how he could respond to that. What he could say. He looked up at the clock, he still was at least 45 minutes too early to even hope for him to see it now. But everything he had to say felt like too much for the stupid tiny phone. He bit his lip and then stretched his hand out._ _ _ _

____He left his address and that was it._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____He spent the better part of two hours looking at the same two websites over and over again. The highlights, if you could call them that, of the last Sharks game were pitiful. They weren’t even in the game from the first minute, the Devils scoring at the 2 minute mark and that was that. They got a singular goal in the third, Burns to Pavs. That was it._ _ _ _

____Mikkel was barely in the highlight package but he was in the post game interviews. He looked horrible, as expected, drained and annoyed and answering all the questions with clipped tight responses. Oliver was shocked when one of the reporters asked how it felt to be on a team that at least made the postseason and something dark crossed Mikkel’s face._ _ _ _

____One of the reasons Mikkel had given the media that he was leaving the Coyotes was to find a ‘better chance’ and yet when asked the question he looked like the reporter had stabbed him. His response was more or less venomous. He spoke of the integrity of the Coyotes, of the family he’d left behind. He answered it like they’d insulted his own blood and it felt like a punch to the gut and a weird puff of pride at the same time._ _ _ _

____When he was asked if he would return to the Coyotes, a question honestly expected in the way he spoke of them he deflated and said something about his contract and finding new family but nothing near the fervor of the moments before. Oliver was tired enough that it was impossible for him to actually interpret that. He just watched the video a few times to see if it would clear up._ _ _ _

____It didn’t._ _ _ _

____Time seemed to creep by. It was nearing midnight in Sweden, which meant it was four back home and he couldn’t even think of the last time he’d _actually_ slept. Not counting the brief catnaps on the airplane. Usual trips had him taking a sleeping pill at 9 and resetting himself as hard as he could. This was anything but usual. _ _ _ _

____His phone rang and he practically catapulted out of his chair but it was, of course, Max._ _ _ _

____“He’s not here,” Oliver snapped. “Fuck, sorry. I’m a little on edge.”_ _ _ _

____“No problem,” Max responded. “I doubt I’d be much better. Have you slept at all?”_ _ _ _

____Oliver laughed dryly. “Not really.”_ _ _ _

____“What time is it there?”_ _ _ _

____“Midnight.”_ _ _ _

____Max made a noise. “You know, he could have not gotten a flight until the morning, you might have hours before he gets there. You might want to just…”_ _ _ _

____“It’s not going to happen,” Oliver said and felt kind of bad at his attitude. Max had been his best friend during the season, well, he and a few of the other players who worked to keep him sane when he was clearly not._ _ _ _

____“Well, don’t blame me when you fall asleep during all the getting back together banging,” Max said._ _ _ _

____Oliver froze at that. Though he was aware that that was Mikkel’s intentions, or at least he assumed so. (Why else would you fly across the world?) Hearing it out loud was one of those things he’d not prepared himself for._ _ _ _

____“Ollie?”_ _ _ _

____“What?”_ _ _ _

____Max sounded genuinely concerned. “You kind of zoned out for a minute.”_ _ _ _

____“I just… hadn’t put it that way in my head yet,” he admitted._ _ _ _

____“You know he wants you back, right?”_ _ _ _

____Oliver made a noncommittal noise._ _ _ _

____“Okay, you didn’t see him here. He wants you back. You get that. You might want to decide if you want him back, too.”_ _ _ _

____Fuck fuck fuck. Of course he wanted Mikkel back. Of course. He wasn’t dumb. He’d not wanted the divorce in the first place. But then again, Mikkel _had_ wanted a divorce. What did that say about the value of their relationship if he was so easy for Mikkel to let go? _ _ _ _

____It felt too weird to think to ask Max for help. Not that he didn’t trust him, but for the better part of their relationship he was a Rookie, _his_ rookie… or one of them. And admitting to him that not only was his freaking petrified but he needed help? Yeah. That was a line he had in the sand for himself. _ _ _ _

____“Ollie?”_ _ _ _

____“I get it,” he answered, though there wasn’t really a question to respond to. “Thanks, Max.”_ _ _ _

____“Eh, you were the better dad,” Max said. “Glad I got you in the div…. you know.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver let out a low laugh. “Yeah. I do.”_ _ _ _

____There was a loud knock on his door and he practically jumped out of his skin._ _ _ _

____“Max? I got to go.”_ _ _ _

____“Wait, is he—?”_ _ _ _

____Oliver hung up before he got to the end of his question. He put his phone down on his table just in time to hear the door thump again, this time a voice going with it._ _ _ _

____“Oliver? Ollie, please say you’re here.”_ _ _ _

____He put his hand on the handle and opened it slowly. As soon as it got wide enough for Mikkel’s face to show through Oliver let the rest of it swing open. He was pretty sure his entire body was shaking, Mikkel looked like one would think someone would look after who knows how much freaking travel. Probably, come to think of it, as bad as Oliver himself looked._ _ _ _

____But to Oliver he looked absolutely amazing._ _ _ _

____He had about three seconds to take Mikkel in before he was scooped into a hug that felt like it could crush his bones. He was startled for a moment before he relaxed into it. He’d missed those hugs. The ones that were usually reserved for when Mikkel had been away for a few days or during the awful time that Mikkel was injured and Oliver came home._ _ _ _

____Mikkel dug his head into the base of Oliver’s neck and inhaled. “Ollie.”_ _ _ _

____Ollie let himself close his eyes and inhale too, catching just the slightest whiff of Mikkel under road smell and sweat. It was more than enough. He put his hand on Mikkel’s lower back and brought him closer to him, even if their bodies were basically one at that point._ _ _ _

____He counted to thirty and then deliberately pushed himself back. Mikkel gave him wide eyes, looking like he was expecting yelling. Maybe, just maybe, he deserved a little yelling but Oliver was beyond that. Six hours of overthinking gave you just enough time to swing from neurotic to calm to neurotic again._ _ _ _

____“What are you doing here?”_ _ _ _

____Mikkel frowned. “Did you get my message?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah,” Oliver said. “But you said you needed to talk to me. So. Talk? To me. Go.”_ _ _ _

____Taking a few steps into the small apartment, making Oliver move to accommodate him, and throwing a really small bag on the floor, Mikkel nodded. “Okay.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver stretched his hands and fought the urge to just say fuck it and hug Mikkel again. Because that was not the point and looking back, the whole problem they had fought for two years and change was communication. So he stared at Mikkel and waited as Mikkel seemed to think something over. After a second he leaned over and grabbed something from his pocket. It was… a piece of paper?_ _ _ _

____“Look, Ollie. I’m not here to tell you that you need to forgive me or that you need to forget what happened. But I am going to tell you that I’m sorry for it. I shouldn’t have asked for the divorce. I shouldn’t have even thought about it. It was petty and childish.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver frowned at him. “What did I do to you?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s what we didn’t do,” Mikkel said. He was looking at the paper. Was it a list? It looked like a list. “I was sick of all the hiding. I was sick of fighting over stupid shit. I was tired of being ‘roommates’. I didn’t like feeling like your trophy partner.”_ _ _ _

____“Your name was on the freaking paperwork, Mikkel. That house was yours as much as it was mine.” Oliver didn’t snap exactly, but his voice was more crisp than it usually was with him. “You weren’t my trophy partner, you were my _husband_.” _ _ _ _

____Mikkel sighed. “And I wanted to be your husband.”_ _ _ _

____“Then why did you did you DIVORCE me?”_ _ _ _

____“Because I looked around one day and realized I wasn’t sure who I was without you and I freaked out. I looked around and realized that our careers were intertwined. They would sign me to keep _you_ , but would they have done it without you involved?” _ _ _ _

____That, actually, took him aback. He’d not really thought about anything like that. He had purposefully kept himself away from the deal for that reason. They didn’t have the same manager, he didn’t let his manager talk to the board. Hell, he wouldn’t even let Shane say anything to him even when he _offered_. _ _ _ _

____Even when February 29th loomed close and his stomach was in knots most of the time he didn’t believe that Mikkel would leave. He thought, he _knew_ , that Mikkel would fight to stay. When the ending happened, when he got the news just a minute or two before the rest of the crew did he felt like he had been punched in the face. _ _ _ _

____But then he thought, well. Other people did long distance. They could do it. He had started making plans in his head about how he would work it out. He was angry at the _team_ for not meeting Mikkel’s needs. Mikkel had been a vital part of the team, had his injury not taken him out, who knew what that season would have been for him? He’d been on course for 20 points, easily. _ _ _ _

____The moments when he heard the whole story from Mikkel, the offer that had been on the table and the way he denied it… It hadn’t been pretty._ _ _ _

____“I was stupid,” Mikkel offered. “I knew it. I knew it then, and I really knew it when I played my first game with the Avs. It was like I was playing in a weird bizarro world.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m sorry.” The words just fell from Oliver’s lips and Mikkel seemed to be just as startled by them as Oliver was. But he _was_ sorry. “I should have seen you weren’t happy. I should have watched for the signs. But I was happy and I let that blind me. I was playing with my best friend, with my husband. I thought life couldn’t get better. I didn’t think you were so miserable.” _ _ _ _

____Mikkel ruffled the back of his hair with his hands. “You aren’t meant to apologize, Oliver.”_ _ _ _

____“What am I ‘meant’ to do then?” Oliver said, a bit annoyed._ _ _ _

____“You’re supposed to listen to me.”_ _ _ _

____“I **am** listening. **You** aren’t making sense,” Oliver sighed. “You left because you were too satisfied. You divorced me because you loved me. You felt like a trophy husband but hated we were hiding.” _ _ _ _

____Mikkel fell to one of the couches and then groaned. “You didn’t really splurge with the purchases, did you?”_ _ _ _

____“I’m here maybe three months a year. I keep it so that I have a place to go to near home,” Oliver shrugged as he sat down across from him on the loveseat. “IKEA, man. I mean I splurged on the bed and the desk chair. Those are all I generally use here.”_ _ _ _

____Mikkel let out a weird belly laugh. “You make more money than the actual captain of our team and you shop at _IKEA_.” _ _ _ _

____“I like it,” he huffed. “Besides, it’s not _our_ team, you made sure of that.” _ _ _ _

____Maybe a low blow, especially if the look on Mikkel’s face was any indication._ _ _ _

____“You didn’t answer my questions. You weren’t making sense. Enlighten me, Mikkel.”_ _ _ _

____“I miss you, you dumb ass,” Mikkel said, looking firmly at where his feet were crossed on the floor. “I love you. I hate being divorced. At first I thought I’d get used to it. I thought I was just letting myself overreact and I had to grow up. But then you cut everything off and I tried… to forget you.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver flinched._ _ _ _

____“For months,” he sighed. “And it was always wrong. I never felt like I could… I felt like I was cheating. I followed the Coyotes. You got hurt, once and I thought that I had lost the ability to breathe but of course I couldn’t fucking call anyone because Mike is a fucking dick and I was frozen out.”_ _ _ _

____“It was barely a bruise,” Oliver groused. “You could have googled it.”_ _ _ _

____Mikkel’s head snapped to look him. “Thanks, fucker, really helps now. I can’t just fly back in time and _not_ spend half a night crying, sure you were injured and dying in freaking Detroit while looking up flights.” _ _ _ _

____Oliver would tease him but the sincerity in his voice made it impossible for him to even try. He shifted forward in his seat and put his elbows on his knees. “Fuck. Mikkel. We’re always going to care about each other. You really think I haven’t followed the Sharks? We were married.”_ _ _ _

____“Is that all you seriously think this is? Normal things couples do after a divorce?”_ _ _ _

____He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “We’ve never quite been normal, Meeks.”_ _ _ _

____“I call bullshit.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver blinked. “What? You think we’re normal?”_ _ _ _

____“No, fucker,” Mikkel said, moving to mimic Oliver’s position. “I think you know this is different than even weird divorced couples. You feel it, too. We are… different here.”_ _ _ _

____He felt the blood in his veins growing warmer by the minute. “Okay, maybe I see it. Maybe I miss you. Fuck it, yes I miss you. I hated signing those stupid papers and I hated you for making me do it. But it’s done. And you did it. You filed, you filled it out. You found a lawyer.”_ _ _ _

____Suddenly he was on his feet and moments later Mikkel was too. “You, Mikkel, you decided this all. So maybe we’re wrong, we’re weird. We’re broken, but you broke us. You broke everything around us. You emptied our house of _us_. So what the hell do you want me to do with it? Forgive you? Move past it all? Let down my guard? Marry you again?_ _ _ _

____“What?”_ _ _ _

____Mikkel was inches from his face, eyes straight forward at him. Oliver was breathing heavy and his fists were bawled up at his side._ _ _ _

____“Yes. To all of it. To every last thing. Forgive me. Fucking marry me. Live your life with me forever,” Mikkel said, pushing forward to kiss him, long and lingering and Oliver’s fists relaxed and he stretched his fingers to let the blood back in. Mikkel’s hand cupped the back of Oliver’s fist as he pulled back. “But gd, Ollie. I’d settle for a freaking date.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver couldn’t help himself when he started to giggle. It was probably the exhaustion, or the fact that he’d been letting this scenario run in his mind for so long yet the word ‘date’ never even entered his brain. He put his hand up to cover his mouth, but Mikkel looked like he might break, too._ _ _ _

____He leaned his forehead on Mikkel’s shoulder, Mikkel landed his forehead on Oliver’s shoulder and they both started to shake with laughter. He inhaled and exhaled and slowly tried to calm himself down._ _ _ _

____“Are you…?” Oliver pulled back. “You flew fourteen hours for a … date?”_ _ _ _

____Mikkel, who seemed to be red faced with laughter, tilted his head to the side and Oliver was pretty sure he would be blushing either way. “Seventeen. I had a layover. But I would fly anywhere for you, Oliver.”_ _ _ _

____Oliver slipped his hand up onto the overly thick beard on Mikkel’s face and rubbed gently before going in for another kiss. He pulled Mikkel towards him to give him a warm kiss._ _ _ _


	2. Epilogue

It took them two full seasons of dating from three hours away to get the hang of it before Oliver was comfortable enough to bring up marriage again. It was the off season and they were visiting Denmark and Mikkel was abnormally cagey about it. 

Long since had gone the days of them not talking about things. Oliver had only agreed on them dating if they were completely transparent. Long distant was hard enough, long distance with secrets when the relationship had had secrets close distance? No. Nej. So Mikkel being cagey and weird was not a good thing in Oliver’s mind. 

Mads, on the other hand, rolled his eyes at Oliver when he brought it up while they watched the sunset, Mikkel off getting beer. 

“That boy is so fucking gone for you,” Mads kicked at his leg. “Listen up. You are my brother just as much as he is. So if he was a moron I would be kicking his ass so hard. He’s just being Mikkel. Give him like… two days and everything will come into itself. He just needs to readjust to the thought or some shit.” 

Oliver, who was swirling around the dregs of his bottle of beer frowned. “I’m glad you have the confidence.” 

“What?” Mikkel said, sliding out the front door with a handful of beers and a cider for Mads on again off again girlfriend. 

“Nothing,” Oliver said, grabbing a bottle and kissing Mikkel on the cheek. 

“What took you so long, bro, brew the beer yourself?” Mads teased, popping the cap off his beer and batting his eyes angelically. 

Mikkel rolled his eyes. “Talking to our mother.” 

“Ah,” Mads grimaced. “Shocked you got out here in such little time.” 

They clinked bottles and Oliver and Mikkel moved over to the small bench off to the side. Oliver was still a little anxious and Mikkel was still just the smallest bit distant. Not entirely though, as he slid his hand into Oliver’s hand and squeezed gently. 

Oliver had to just take that as enough. 

*

The next day he woke up to find Mikkel perched on the end of the bed, on the phone. It was six? Six thirty? Too fucking early for any human to be up in the off season, let alone on the phone but he put that away and nudged Mikkel with his foot, hard. Mikkel turned back to him, mid sentence. He frowned and mouth, ‘Sorry’ at him. 

Oliver was still half asleep, so he put his head down and listened but couldn’t actually put anything together. It was all lovely white noise. His brain was just about to tug him into sleep when a familiar presence scooted up along his back and he was brought back. 

“You’re up early,” he said, snuggling into his chest. “Talking to your girl back home?”

Mikkel bit him at the small of his neck. “Shut up, Ollie. You know there is no one back anywhere. It’s just you.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it. What do you want to do today, after the many hours left of sleep?”

“Marry me?” 

Oliver’s half lidded eyes opened wide, he pushed himself up on his hands and looked back. “What the hell?” 

“Marry me, Oliver Ekman-Larsson,” Mikkel said, enunciating each and every syllable.

“You… I’ve all but asked three times in the last week, you said you needed ‘time’,” Oliver put a single finger on Mikkel’s chest. “Now you just ask?” 

Mikkel brought his hand up and kissed it. “Well, I was okay with long distance dating. But I figured marriage was a different story. I’ve been working on a plan for a while.”

“It’s too early for you not to use sensical words, Meeks.” 

“You’ll get the call later, Cap,” he teased. “But I am being traded to you for a cap hit, and a few minor leaguers.” 

Oliver’s heart started to beat faster in his chest. “I swear to god, Boedker, if you are messing with me I am going to board you so hard the next time we are on the ice you will not be able to lay down for a month.” 

“No jokes,” Mikkel said and sat up. He gave him a soft kiss. “We will be together forever. This time I won’t fuck it up.” 

Oliver kissed him back. “We were both a little young and stupid.” 

“I was less young and more stupid.” 

He laughed. “Okay, I’ll give you that.” 

There was a long pause. “So… is that a…?” 

Oliver blinked before he laughed again, a little louder. “Yes, you idiot. I’ll marry you.” 

“Love you, too,” Mikkel drawled. “Still want to go back to sleep?” 

Oliver shook his head. But they did, in fact, stay in bed for most of the morning. 

 

 

"And up until now I had sworn to myself  
that I'm content with loneliness  
Because none of it was ever worth the risk  
But you are the only exception(x4)  
I've got a tight grip on reality  
But I can't let go of what's in front of me here  
I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up  
Leave me with some kind of proof, it's not a dream"   
-Paramore "The Only Exception"

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU LUCIFERN FOR THE BETA AND FREETODREAM5 FOR THE CONSTANT LOVE!! <3


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